Category: personal and true

For the next weeks I will be posting 10 small stories. What is so special about them is that they are connected together, the first to second and the second to the third… all the protagonists from one story will rise through the previous stories, to tell their own. Magic, love, hate, science, faith, pain, regret, all happen to that big weird city in the middle of the Desert.

It is my first attempt to write a bigger piece. Let’s see how it will go. It will all be found under the category “10 small stories”. I hope you enjoy them!

It was a nice day, a bit cold but sunny. It was the perfect day for a bike ride especially as Mari would not have another chance to enjoy the sunny weather on her bike till next spring. The young girl took her red and quite old bike and set off roaming the streets of her neighborhood.

As she was enjoying the sun, she remembered that she needed to visit to grocery store. Her poor fridge was running out of milk, eggs, bread and all the stuff that could keep a human being alive. Mari decided to change her morning plans and go to the store.

After she had bought everything she needed in order not to starve to death, she started the bike to home. The weather was really nice today, especially when compared to the stormy yesterday. The bright sun erased all the memories of the storm from last night, even though the puddles of water kept looking at her ominously.

Mari was close to her place, the last crossroad. She speeded up a bit, eager to go home and bake that strawberry cupcakes. The car was in a safe distance, of course she had more than enough time to cross the road. But then again, she had forgotten of the vicious puddles. When she crossed a puddle right in the middle of the road, she lost control of the bike and the young girl found herself inside the puddle. She was wet from head to toe, but that was not the thing that worried her the most. The most imminent threat was the car approaching her fast. Mari’s heart raced in her chest as panicked tried to get up.

The tires of the car shrieked but stopped in as distance from her. The driver was nice to Mari, he had seen what had happened. However that did not stopped Mari from blushing, she was so embarrassed that she kept apologizing till the driver laughed:

“Why are you sorry? Hopefully your eggs have not turned into an omelet!”

Remember that you are good. That you are clever and hardworking, that you are able to do what you want. You have the skills to learn, improve, succeed. Remember that you can do it, whatever someone else might think of you. Do not let them judge you. Do they know? No they do not, only you know yourself. Do not let them feed the monster of insecurity you have muzzled inside you.

Remember that dreaming is good. Dreams help you go on, give you the energy to go through all the difficult dark days, when the letters want to jump out of the computer screen and bite you. Dreams are your energy drink, your food supply. It is in your hand to keep them alive and make them reality. And remember that the dreams are flexible, they change in details, and come in different forms. Do not be disappointed if something is not as you thought. Enjoy the percentage of it. And do not forget that they are yours, and only yours. No one else can tell you what you dreamed, or what you should desire.

Remember to enjoy the small things in life. The snowflakes, the frost on the trees, the bird on the pavement. Your favourite lunch on the cafe, the fresh lines, drinking tea from your favourite teacup. Reading a quote from your favourite book. The small things can help you go on, keep you excited and energetic. Life is beautiful, your life is good.

Remember that you are good, and that people should love you. If they do not want to be with you it does not matter to you. You have other friends, family. And sometimes people go away, you were not as important to them as they were to you. But it does not matter, cherish the moments you can spend together.

She was walking alone. Her footsteps echoed along the empty corridors It was late at night and she had forgotten how she was working here. Was an hour, a day, a week? Had a month passed till she had breathed the clean air? Had it been a year since she last saw the sun? She could not remember. She could not remember.

She walked into the lab, then into the library. People were there, but none paid attention to her. She was part of the surroundings, part of the university. She had melted into the walls and she had been dissolved into the water of the complex. She had thought that when they said that she would become part of the university system, they meant literally.

Margarita, 24. Moved from the South to the North for studies. Here, I post my ramblings that usually are short stories. Sometimes though I may be working on something longer. All of my posts may or may not be based upon real events, locations, people and feelings. Plan is to post weekly. I study in science and I try not to write as do for the courses. I would like to have the writing flow of Gabriel Garcia Marquez or Catherynne M Valente. I try to find my style and I experiment with different types. Beware though that some the worlds just type themselves, they might be incoherent, but those are my thoughts. Those come at unusual times, periods, situations.

Blogging from Dol Amroth, Gondor

May the odds be in your favor, because the night is dark and full of terrors…